


Next Tuesday

by zetsubonna



Series: On Va Voir [22]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Kid Fic, dark future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5036056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon requested: if you are taking fic recs, kid!bucky is something i would be super interested in seeing. the potential for the heartbreak seeing bucky as a kid knowing all the shit that happens to him and who he is forced to become is amazing. all the avengers seeing the person steve grew up with and having to compare it to the bucky in recovery that they know. especially as i always imagine bucky as a carefree kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123028) by [zetsubonna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna). 



“Anything you haven’t seen yet that you want to?” Steve asked.

Bucky considered. He sat on the floor beside the couch, like he’d always done, while Steve was on it, the two of them very close but not touching.

“Cameras,” Bucky said, sudden and decisive, and Steve smiled at him. “How good are they? Is developing pictures any easier?”

Steve’s eyes lit up so quick Bucky snapped forward six inches, pushing his hands into his lap, “Spill, dammit!”

“They’re everywhere, Buck,” Steve said, sliding down to the floor with him. “Cameras are everywhere, in everything. Miniature ones. Cameras that record not just pictures, but, you know,  _pictures_ , talkies and everything, better than RKO on their best day. I got one as part of my telephone  _in my pocket_.”

Bucky stared at him, and then leaned back and shoved him. “Get outta town.”

"I’m serious!” Steve said. “You could be a photographer for like, nothin’, I’d buy you a camera the second you said you wanted one, not even joking.” _  
_

Bucky sighed, and turned around, leaning his back against Steve’s arm.

“I ain’t gonna do that though, am I? Not any time soon. Damn it, Stevie. You got the luck of Job, ain’t you?”

Steve’s bright smile shrank and crumbled, and Bucky closed his eyes.

“Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out. I trust you.”

“I wish I felt the same,” Steve murmured, and Bucky leaned a little harder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: In the same vein as kid!Steve fic, could you write Steve taking care of kid!Bucky?

”Steve?”

Sam waited until he was sure. Until he was sure Bucky was out cold on the couch, until Natasha was washing dishes in the kitchen, until the silence on the porch was complete and deep, he’d waited, and then he’d stepped outside, and seen exactly what he’d expected to.

Steve was crumpled in on himself on the porch swing, his legs flung haphazardly out, his big shoulders curved inward. The dimness of the lighting could only do so much to conceal the ugly red of his blotchy face, the glitter of tears in his dark eyelashes, the wet spot on his shirt where he’d crammed it into his mouth to smother the wracking sobs that were still making him shake now before they’d finally gone quiet.

Steve looked up at Sam, and then he crumpled again, shaking and shaking, burying his face in his hands, holding his breath to keep from gasping and crying so hard he looked like he might be sick.

“Steve,” Sam sighed, sitting beside him and reaching for him, glad to be as big and solid a fella as he was when Steve nearly tackled him in his quest for human contact, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder and slicking his neck with more tears. “Hush. Hush, hush. Shh. Shh.”

“I can’t tell him,” Steve was saying, too small and too miserable to be even called a whisper. “I can’t tell him anything. What can I say? He asks me  _any damn thing,_ what the Hell can I say?”

"I definitely wasn’t expecting him to be such a little ball of sunshine,” Sam admitted, stroking Steve’s back. “He always like that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve choked out. “And then- it’s all my fault, Sam, everything, everything in his whole life that ever went wrong was because of me.”

“Shh,” Sam shook his head. “I doubt he’d agree with you even if you laid it all out, Steve. Just calm down. We’ll figure something out.”

“Christ,” Steve sighed, sucking in a deep breath, his hands still fists in Sam’s shirt. “Christ, fuck. What can we even-”

“You can remember I don’t sleep for spit,” Bucky said, yawning as he padded out the door. He was wearing the clothes they kept for the times Steve was  _just_  de-serumed, and they weren’t more than three sizes too big. “No more ‘n you do, punk. Scoot.”

Steve was shaking, and Sam eyed the kid warily even as he took the order to scoot. Unlike when Steve had been in the same position, Bucky wasn’t clingy. He was touchy, but not clingy, he leaned up against Steve and folded his arms over his chest, frowning hard.

“Spill,” he demanded. “What the Hell’s got you sobbin’ like a kid? You’re grown, you should be bigger than this by now.”

Steve laughed, a humorless, barking thing, and Bucky wasn’t having any of it. “Spill,” he growled.

“You-” Steve began, and then paused, shaking his head. “Buck, there’s- there’s a lot of stuff you could ask me that I don’t wanna answer. About you, about us, about how we got this far in the future- it ain’t pretty, and I-”

“You’ll notice I ain’t askin’,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes and falling tighter against Steve’s side. “Look- you ain’t ever lied for spit. You can’t. It ain’t in you. When you’re even  _thinking_  about lying, you get this panicked look in your eyes, like you’re about to drop the tray carrying the eucharist,  _like you did that one time_.”

Steve snorted, horrified himself by doing it, and choked up again.

"So, I figure, Stevie doesn’t fall all over himself to tell me how awesome I am in the future, it’s because I ain’t awesome. Something for me went bad.  _Real_  bad, and he blames himself, because he’s an  _idiot_. And that’s okay. But what  _ain’t_  okay, is sittin’ here in a whole goddamn world full of superheroes and magic and flyin’ people and spy dames and science that turned  _you_  into a goddamn  _tank_  and crying about it. Ain’t much I wouldn’t give to see Stevie Rogers live to be an old man, even trapped in a young man’s body.”

Steve crumbled further, and Sam shook his head.

"Christ,” Bucky shoved himself up on his knees and grabbed Steve’s face in both hands. His arms were muscled already, wiry and strong. He was well-fed and sun-bronzed and about seven pounds heavier than he probably had to be, none of it fat. “Listen to me when I’m talkin’ at you, you dumb shit.  _I don’t care_. Don’t tell me anything you don’t want me to know. But you’re taking me to a picture tomorrow, we’re gonna watch color television and play arcade games and go find a roller coaster, we’re gonna do everything I ever wanted to do with you when we couldn’t afford it, and it’s gonna be aces. Just quit  _cryin_ ’, Jesus. You’re worse ‘en Becky and Jackie put together,  _still_. S’ridiculous. Man up, Rogers.”


End file.
